


Skirting The Topic

by ktbl



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Consent, F/F, Inner Thigh Kisses, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26679301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktbl/pseuds/ktbl
Summary: “I’ve never seen one like that.”“Is it new?”“It’s for the Empress herself - if I approve of it.” Andy knew that voice - one of the ladies-in-waiting. “Carved wood, set with gold, and the other one is blown glass.”“But wouldn’t it shatter? You know, while…?” The last voice trailed off, making a throat-clearing noise that was all too obvious. Andy didn’t bother hiding her laugh, and there were soft sounds of horror from within the room.“Don’t worry,” she said, shouldering the door open. “I won’t spoil your fun. I’ve seen them before. And it shouldn’t shatter, not if it’s made properly - and you, or your lover, are using it the right way. You just don’t drop it.”--Andy finds some entertainment in the court of Catherine the Great - and it's not at all what she'd been expecting.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17
Collections: Yes Fest 2020





	Skirting The Topic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inlovewithnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/gifts).



The court of the Empress of All the Russias was fascinating, mindbogglingly lavish, and - after the first few weeks, at least - phenomenally boring. There were tens of thousands of places she could have been at that moment - at least ten she could have thought of with only a breath - but somehow, Andromache of Scythia was here. She’d made some poor decisions over her millennia, and this was beginning to feel like it would rank up there with some of the worst of them.

It had started out with far more appeal, to be frank.

“I’m going to Crimea,” she’d told Joe and Nicky as they sprawled out in the warehouse in Athens. “I’m bored. And there’s a war on.”

“You want us to go with you?” Nicky had lifted his head up from Joe’s shoulder, almost reluctantly, his fingers still curling in his lover’s hair. “We’ll go, if you want us to.”

“Like you two will pry yourselves apart from one another long enough,” she’d snorted with a grin, then turned and left. She adored Joe and Nicky, but sometimes it still ached when she turned and expected to see Quynh stepping around a corner with that wicked grin, waiting. She didn’t begrudge them their passion, but she envied it. A war was a good enough reason to give them - and herself - space. They knew it as the excuse it was, but didn’t push, and it was part of why she cared for them as deeply as she did.

They read into it what she wasn’t saying. There was a war on, and she needed to get out of Athens, clear her mind of Quynh, and the best way to do that might just be going to the closest thing there was to home. The Scythians had once ridden through the lands that now included Crimea; she might distantly be able to call this trouble at home. She wasn’t sure whose side she would fight for, but it was the land of her birth - more or less - even though the language and the people had been gone for centuries. It was a justification to go back and see what had changed, to see the mountains and the coastlines she had once ridden.

Maybe she’d find some peace.

Andy made her way from Athens through the Ottoman Empire as winter rolled into spring. Riding brought her some peace, saddlebags full of what she needed (it seemed like everyone needed more and more these days, even her), heels down and her horse’s nose turned in the direction her soul kept urging. She passed herself off as a mercenary; it wasn’t hard, and when anyone saw her astride a horse, dressed in a facsimile of a military uniform, they believed her. If she looked a little feminine, and women weren’t supposed to fight, well… 

The first brawl with an idiot bold enough to question her usually shut the rest of them up.

The nights grew longer as she rode ever north and east, around the bulk of the Black Sea, until she pulled her mare up in front of the lines of campfires that speckled the hills and plains like stars. 

She weighed her options, mingling with both armies’ camps, until she found herself edging towards the side of the Empress of Russia. It was brutal warfare and it paid well for mercenaries; Andy loved being paid almost as much as she loved fighting. When one empire knelt on its knees before another, the  Treaty of Küçük Kaynarca signed, Andy took her hefty purse of rubles and rode northward to St. Petersburg. It was time for cooler weather. Stories abounded about Catherine: taking her throne from her incompetent husband, building a court full of intellectuals and interesting people. It seemed like it would be an interesting place to spend a few months - maybe even years, if the Empire kept expanding. Interesting wars and interesting people always made the centuries pass more quickly. It might be prudent to keep an eye on the woman determined to expand the Russian borders even further.

As the weeks passed, it became clear to Andy that Empress Catherine preferred an ostentatious and complicated court. Andy liked interesting, sometimes even ostentatious. But she sure as fuck didn’t do complicated - it always ended up biting her in the ass. She was ready to get a new mount from the stables and turn its nose south and east, ride for the mountains and the steppes and anywhere but the lavishness of St. Petersburg.

Andy strode through the hallways of Catherine’s summer palace, the sun almost dazzling as it reflected against the gold leaf and crystal and glass. She’d declined her third - fourth? - cup of tea, wishing desperately it was good vodka instead of the black tea in samovars, thick and cloyingly sweet. 

She paused at a half-open door, hearing a stream of laughter and conversation - but only women’s voices, not men’s. It was strange enough in this court that she tilted her head, eavesdropping.

“I’ve never seen one like that.”

“Is it new?”

“It’s for the Empress herself - if I approve of it.” Andy knew that voice - one of the ladies-in-waiting. “Carved wood, set with gold, and the other one is blown glass.”

“But wouldn’t it shatter? You know, while…?” The last voice trailed off, making a throat-clearing noise that was all too obvious. Andy didn’t bother hiding her laugh, and there were soft sounds of horror from within the room.

“Don’t worry,” she said, shouldering the door open. “I won’t spoil your fun. I’ve seen them before. And it shouldn’t shatter, not if it’s made properly - and you, or your lover, are using it the right way. You just don’t drop it.”

Three lavishly dressed women made shrieking sounds at the intrusion. Wearing dresses had never been Andy’s preference, but she’d learned over the centuries that masculine dress got her scrutinized more heavily. Sometimes, as much as she loathed them, it was worth wearing gowns. She had refused the obscenely opulent dress favored by many of Catherine’s courtiers, and settled for a gown of silk brocade, as blandly decorated as she could get away with. 

“Oh. It’s you,” one of the women said, acid-sweet. “I should have expected it.” Countess Praskovya Bruce, confidante of Her Imperial Majesty, and as set in her ways as Andy was. They’d butted heads almost immediately, but Andy had made her lack of interest in court politics clear, and they had managed a cease-fire. It was shaky, but enough that Andy didn’t risk somehow being targeted as a threat.

“I wanted to come and see what got Empress Catherine’s ladies-in-waiting clucking like chickens. You left the door open, anyway.” Andy peered into the kidskin-lined box, and saw just what she expected: a pair of elegantly wrought, far too expensive, sex toys. 

Some things never changed, despite the passage of centuries. 

“And what would you know about these?” A second woman, all in dark blue with silver embroidery, crossed her arms over her bodice.

“As I said, I’ve seen them before.” Used them, too, but that didn’t need to be spelled out. “Don’t look too bad, all things considered. Glass is clear, looks…” She pursed her lips, eyed it. “Venetian, maybe. Murano?”

“How would you know that?” The last woman’s voice was desperately curious, and Andy had overlooked her entirely, the way she’d been silent and almost hidden behind the others. She had blonde curls that hung in fat ringlets around her face, not swept up and back, and wore a gown of green and gold almost as plain as Andy’s own.

“I’ve been around.” Andy weighed her words carefully, trying to hide the way her heartbeat had quickened. This blonde looked nothing like Quynh. She was pale skinned where Quynh had been duskier, hair like spun gold instead of Quynh’s starlit night black mane, green eyes instead of Quynh’s dark brown. She was nothing like Quynh, and why was she even thinking of Quynh right now, and -

The sound of the wooden box clicking closed interrupted her thoughts.

“I’ll be bringing these to the Empress now, I think,” the first woman said, still acid-sweet. Two others trailed out behind her, leaving Andy and the blonde, whose eyes were as full of curiosity as her voice had been.

“I would be interested in hearing more of where you’ve been,” she said, her voice still curious, tinged with an accent Andy couldn’t put a finger on, and that pushed her over the edge.

“As long as it’s not over tea, I’m happy to tell you what I can.”

That was the first of many conversations over the next few days, though - pointedly, not over tea. The blonde revealed her name as Vasilisa Petrovna Galkina, a daughter of a house far to the east and sent to St. Petersburg for her family's perpetual goal of getting ahead. Find a husband, find a court position, whatever it could be to get her out of their hands and into someone else's. 

"So you're just being passed around? Here for show?" Andy raised an eyebrow as they walked the halls one afternoon. Vasilisa shrugged in response.  
"What else, why else, would I be? What would I do? I can't go off and fight in the wars as a solider, I am not a merchant to try to earn my way as a shopkeeper." She shuddered as if at the thought horrified her, the idea of being a mere proprietress instead of the glamour of life at the center of imperial power. "I am hoping - expecting - to find a husband, at some point. He will do... whatever he does, and I will work our interests here in the court. A job in the Empress’ retinue, or that of some other lady.” She reached up, coiling a blonde curl around her fingertip. "It's not as if it matters at the moment, anyway. There are no men here worth pursuing. Not until the latest rounds of prestige are doled out in the wake of the treaty.”   
Andy chuckled, looking at the woman. Power-hungry, just like so many others, but perhaps not entirely of her own will. “What would you do, if that were unnecessary? Say, a wealthy widow?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. Travel, maybe? The Ottoman Empire, the courts of France and England, Italy. There’s much to see, but it’s all so far away. Unless I somehow marry an ambassador, it’s likely I’ll never see much beyond St. Petersburg, unless I return home.”

Andy nodded; she was a realist, at least, this blonde courier. She might wish for more, but she was aware of the limits on her. “So I would be almost anathema to you, then. I'm unwed, and no interest in it. I have no children, and my kin are mostly dead. I have some.. close friends, as close as family, but they aren't here now."   
"Family is so important!" Vasilisa turned bright green eyes on her in shock. "How can you bear it? Being alone?"  
It struck Andy hard, a blow to the gut, a blade to her kidneys. It was a question she'd asked herself more than once, and always - always - the answer was the same: I can't.   
"You learn after awhile," she said instead, shrugging and looking out the window, trailing her fingertips over the gold-leaf windowsill. "It's miserable at times, but the lack of accountability - the ability to go where your heart takes you? That's worth it. The ability to ride, or to walk, to see the courts of Europe, parts of the world you might never be able to if you were tied to one place?" She sighed, looking southward, towards where Nicky and Joe were likely still wrapped up with each other. "It's hard, being alone at times, but it's worth it."  
"Tell me more of where you've been. You came with Her Imperial Majesty's army from the south, after the signing of the treaty?"  
"I did," Andy admitted after a moment, gauging Vasilisa's expression as she did. "It was a long ride, a hard ride, but I made my way up here."  
"Were you a healer of some sort?"  
Andy weighed her options again, and made a show of turning around deliberately and looking for eavesdroppers, as if she was confiding a secret. Of course the room was full of gossips and eyes were on the pair of them, but it meant very little in the long run. She brought her mouth close to Vasilisa's ear, sharing the secret. Her lips barely brushed against the skin, and she could feel a tremble even through the brocaded gown. The scent of Vasilisa’s perfume curled into her nose, a fragrance she couldn’t quite name, sweet and woody and just strong enough to be sensed but not overwhelm her nose.

"I fought," Andy whispered, lips not-touching Vasilisa’s ear.   
"You fought?" Vasilisa's voice was low, a little breathy with surprise, and it tugged at something in Andy, something substantially lower down.  
"Like I said, I have no spouse, no family, no one to judge me. No one who would be viewed poorly if I had a less than impeccably feminine reputation." She winked once, and it drew another shocked gasp from Vasilisa, making her chest rise in a startlingly attractive way.   
"And is that how...?" She lifted up a finger, and pointed down the hall; they were not so far from the room where, not much earlier, the two love-aids had appeared and been gossiped over.   
"Mm-hm." Andy grinned and winked. "I've had my share of experience with them. They're nice, if you're alone, or if you have a partner who has... problems. But they're not always ideal."  
"And what is ideal?"  
Her voice was definitely breathy now, and Andy would swear she could see Vasilisa's pulse pounding away along the column of her neck, her bodice rising and falling with heavier breaths.   
"I'd tell you, but telling makes it seem so dry, so bland, so much... nothingness. It would be far better to show you, but that also requires privacy."  
"I- we - could find privacy," Vasilisa said after a few long moments, so long Andy thought she might have misjudged the young woman, might have sent her running. "There's to be a court gathering tomorrow night, not quite a masquerade but nearly. There will be music, and dancing, and far too much vodka flowing. If we would disappear, without anyone seeing us - or caring - that would be the night."  
"Any particular reason for the party?" Andy hadn't heard of anything notable, no new ambassadors or wars, not even any new painters or other artists drawn to Catherine's court in hopes of enhancing their reputation.  
"Empress Catherine wants one." Vasilisa replied, as if that should be explanation enough. Andy snorted, and they turned a corner as they walked, the hall becoming slightly less crowded, fewer gaudy courtiers chattering like birds, fewer guards looking like they'd never seen a day of battle in their shiny court regalia.   
"I hate parties," Andy muttered, sighing. "They're crowded, and everyone says nothing of interest or value, and it's three layers of motives. Maybe we should just avoid it entirely."  
"I can't do that, not if I'm to get ahead - even after you've wandered off," Vasilisa replied pertly. "But I'm willing to offer you an incentive to attend."  
"You, offer me?" Andy couldn't hide the surprised laugh. "And what kind of incentive would you have that I might be interested in?"  
"This." And with a look around, Vasilisa tugged Andy into a small chamber, little more than a door tucked in at the end of the passageway. It looked like a resting place for servants, pallet on the floor and a pile of tattered blankets the only decoration. No windows, and only the one door that blended in so seamlessly to the wall, Andy wondered how Vasilisa had even known it was there. She grinned, having a hint of an idea as to what the so-much-younger woman was up to, but a tiny corner of her worrying if there was another entrance, and out would burst priests and soldiers, ready to capture her as a witch, a whore, a temptress.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, Vasilisa turned, and pinned Andy up against the wall. Andy had to force down the immediate urge to _resist_ , to free herself, but there was suddenly a very warm pair of breasts pressed into her chest, and that fragrance of her perfume returning again. Vasilisa leaned up on the balls of her feet, and pressed a kiss shyly, almost tentatively, to Andy’s lips. It was amateurish, unpracticed and unrefined, but when Andy kissed back, her apprehension turned to enthusiasm.

Andy cupped Vasilisa’s head in her hands, thumbs brushing across her cheeks, holding her still. Andy licked along her lips, teasing them open a hairsbreadth at a time. She made it just far enough to dip her tongue into the other woman’s mouth, run delicately along her teeth, before pulling back, and tugging her head away from the kiss.

Vasilisa let out a tiny, frustrated whine, and Andy chuckled, brushing a finger across her lips again.

“That’s incentive all right, but unless you want to get us caught by whoever stays here…” She trailed off, and the other woman nipped once, a tiny bite with grazing teeth, at Andy’s thumb. She turned away, and pushed open the door a small amount, before breezing out. Andy followed a few moments later, hoping to be more covert. 

“So will you come, then? To the party?” Vasilisa eyed her, throat bobbing once as she swallowed.

“As long as you do.” Andy winked at her, and watched a faint blush creep its way up, the pink high in Vasilisa’s pale cheeks. “But I think that won’t be a problem.”

The celebration was moving merrily, with a small group of musicians playing to entertain, dances forming up to allow the men and women of the court to show off the finery that sent most of them in debt. Vodka flowed like water, and the crowds ebbed and flowed around Andy. She caught sight of Vasilisa in easy conversation with a pair of Preobrezhensky guards. Andy caught her eye and watched the bright pink tip of Vasilisa’s tongue dart out and wet her lips. The two guardsmen stiffened, and Andy turned to watch her prospective lover politely bid the two guardsmen farewell, and in a gown of pale dusky blue and cloth-of-gold, follow in Andy’s wake.

They slipped out one after the other, drifting away from the night’s festivities. Andy waited in the shadows for her companion, and linked arms as friends did, walking through the dimly lit halls. Vasilisa’s heeled shoes clicked on the tile, the sound growing louder as the music and laughter of the celebration grew quieter. The last echoes of carousing drifted away as they rounded a corner into a hallway, moonlight spilling through the arched windows.

“Think this is good enough. We’re far enough away we should hear anyone coming, but close enough that we can make it back and avoid being missed. If we want to.”

“That sounds fine.” Vasilisa’s mouth turned up a smile, lips bowing up and pulling to one side. “Are you implying we’ll want to?”

“I don’t know. Might be worth it to show back up. I know you have a reputation to maintain. Those guardsmen, at least, will be looking for you.” Andy quirked a brow, and the other woman laughed.

“In this court, it’s a miracle anyone knows me enough that I have any reputation at all. Come on, then, and show me these things you’ve talked about.” Her voice was just loud enough to carry.

“Sssh,” Andy murmured, pressing a finger to Vasilisa’s lips. She grinned, eyes bright with mischief and more than a little lust. “Don’t want to get caught, do you?”

The blonde shuddered at the press of the calloused finger, lipping at it and catching it with her teeth. Before her, Andy’s breath hitched with pleasure. She loved when they had fire, and this one definitely had it. Anyone could come down the hallway, seeking a secret moment, an illicit indulgence, just as they were. The risk made Andy’s blood begin to pound a little harder in her ears. She ran a finger down one side of Vasilisa’s neck, watching her throat bob as a fingernail traced down the column, then along the intricate jeweled necklace that rested on her chest.

Andy let her mouth follow the path of her finger, drawing skin gently up between her teeth in little nips and listening to Vasilisa gasp at every touch. She made soft moans, almost yips, and Andy chuckled.

“ _Lisitsa_ ,” Andy said, lips hovering over the hollow of Vasilisa’s throat. “You sound like a little fox.” She trailed kisses further down, over the pale skin of Vasilisa’s chest, to the upper curves of her breasts. Her perfume was stronger, here, and Andy wondered if her lover would mind if she simply took a knife and sliced off the bodice, making it easier to get to the promising swell of breasts currently jammed into the gown’s bodice. She wanted to reach in, cover them with her mouth, watch Vasya’s face as she nipped and tugged.

Andy let out a regretful sigh instead - perhaps another time, if this went well. She shifted and reached down to the hem of the other woman’s skirts, slipping her fingers underneath them and the fine linen chemise. Her fingertips trailed up the silk stockings until the ribbon garters, and then the smooth stretch of skin. She hiked the skirts up, hooking them over the panniers, grateful current fashion was trending towards the narrow end. She spared another look up at Vasilisa. She had slouched against the wall, head tipped back and her eyes open, staring at Andy, watching every moment. Andy could see her chest rising and falling quicker now, light glittering off the cloth-of-gold and the embroidery. If Vasya was a fox, Andy was a bear - Vasya had the look of prey, fascinated and unable to move away. Andy strung kisses up the inside of Vasilisa’s calves and then the smooth skin of her thighs, fingers curling around the backs of her calves, her thighs, cupping the round, firm muscle of her ass.

“Andezhka-” Vasilisa choked off the other woman’s name, the diminutive a surprise as it tumbled off her tongue. “You torment me.”

“I like the sounds you make,” Andy answered, voice just loud enough to be heard, lips brushing across the soft flesh. “I want to make you scream, Vasya. See if those guards would come running.” Her fingers moved again, ghosted up and down her lover’s thighs, and Vasilisa slumped back a little more against the intricately papered wall. “But I can stop, if you want me to.”

“No.” The word tripped off the other woman’s tongue, and she shook her head, curls bobbing. “No, that I do not want.”

“Good, because I really didn’t want to. But if you change your mind - say it, all right? You need to tell me. I don’t want you living with regrets.” She knew what that was like, knew it all too well, and it wasn’t a curse she would wish on anyone. She pulled back from beneath her skirts, eyes looking up to meet the vivid green of Vasilisa’s once more. “All right?”

“Yes,” the blonde hissed, biting down on her lower lip, looking out into the moonlit courtyard. “But I don’t want you to stop. Please, I want you to do that again.”

“Do what again?”

“The kissing thing.”

Andy chuckled to herself, and began to mark the inside of Vasya’s legs with delicate brushes of her lips, barely skimming the skin and the hair there. Her lips pressed harder, tiny peppering touches growing to wide, firm marks. She deliberately avoided the apex of Vasya’s thighs, reaching everything she otherwise could. Her fingers curved around the back of Vasya’s thighs, feeling the muscles tremble. She worked her way down and up once more, until all she could hear were breathy moans from above. Andy grinned against Vasilisa’s thigh, and shifted to press her nose upward.

The shudder and accompanying moan as it brushed along her slit was worth it - more, when Andy followed with her tongue. Vasya cried out loud, and muffled it sharply; it shifted her skirts, and they fell down over Andy, shrouding her underneath. Andy inhaled the scent of Vasya, the musk-sweet wet scent of her, and then pulled her head out.

“Should I stop?”

“No - no, no, no,” the other woman said, shaking her head. Her eyes were wide, her throat bobbing and chest heaving, and Andy moved back in to her evening’s pleasure. Every movement made Vasya whine, every touch of her tongue and press of her fingers along her folds sent shudders through the other woman. It had been long enough since Andy had taken a novice to bed that she’d forgotten some of the joy in waking someone’s body to this type of pleasure. She chuckled briefly with anticipation, and then after several long minutes stood back up, fingers curling around the hem of the gown and carrying it up as she rose.

Andy pressed Vasya against the wall and kissed her again, less gently, and felt Vasya’s mouth open easily for her, yielding utterly. Their tongues slid against each other, and while their mouths were busy, Andy’s fingers dipped back down. They played across the swollen flesh of Vasya’s cleft, danced across the nerve-filled bud of her clitoris and the folds beneath it. Andy pulled back, adjusted her free hand to help support her lover, took a breath, and kissed Vasya again. She sealed their mouths together as she delicately tucked one finger inside Vasya.

Andy felt the noblewoman sag against the wall again, and her body tremble in a full-bodied moment, hips bucking towards Andy. Vasya pulled her mouth away and whispered swears and imprecations in a dialect of Russian that Andy hadn’t heard in decades, and the meanings were hard to dredge up.

“You like this?”

“Yes,” Vasya hissed, her pupils gone wide and dark with lust, the green barely visible. “Andezhka…” She let out another one of those little foxlike yips, pushing her hips against Andy’s hand. Her fingers coaxed more moans and sighs from Vasya, and Andy felt her own breath quickening at the sounds and unabashed pleasure. 

“Kiss me,” Vasilisa begged softly, her fingers woven into Andy’s hair and dragging her lips closer. All too happy to oblige, Andy’s fingers kept up their work, in and out, brushing up and down, the flat pad of her thumb tracing shapes around and over her partner’s clit. Every one brought a new tremble, a cry, and at one point Vasya tipped her head forward and bit down on Andy’s neck. It shocked her, just a little, and Andy felt her own nipples pebble at the sensation. 

“Good girl,” Andy murmured gently. “You’re such a good girl, Vasya. There’s more to show you - we’re not done yet. And if you bite me too much, I won’t be able to show you everything.” Her tongue drew along the shell of Vasya’s ear, and a heartbeat later Vasya’s body pushed down hard on Andy’s fingers, driving them deeper into her. 

“Everything, show me everything,” Vasya moaned softly.

“We don’t have time for everything tonight, _lisitsa_ ,” Andy murmured, “but I’ll get you started.” 

She helped stabilize the other woman, gather herself and reposition against the wall, and then dropped down to her knees again. Andy moved forward and laved her tongue between Vasilisa’s legs, circling her clit with just the point of her tongue. Vasilisa sagged more against the wall, and Andy hummed with satisfaction. That sent a new tremble and whine through Vasilisa, and she seemed to struggle to keep herself upright, legs quaking. 

“Andy, please… Andezhka…” Her voice was thick and low and cracked at the end, and it made Andy hum more, and earned an almost frantic whine from the woman above her. She starts pushing down, hips twitching into Andy’s face. Andy grinned broadly with pleasure, and felt the brush of a hand, tentative and nervous, on her head. It wove into her hair, and Andy hummed with delight. The woman was wet - _gods_ was she wet, musky-sweet and nearly dripping with desire, and Andy had turned her into this delightful moaning mess. She took her centuries of practice, working her tongue in circles around Vasya’s clit, pressing the blade of her tongue against it, then quick swipes with the tip. Fingers slid in and out, just barely brushing the entrance of her cunt, and Vasya’s fingers tightened in Andy’s hair. 

Andy could hear the soft noises above her, the muffled cries, but also realized there was something off. Something wrong. She paused her fingers, ran them gently along Vasya’s legs, felt the tight grip in her hair ease. She pulled back, stringing kisses down the insides of her thighs, easy and relaxed, before moving and looking up.

“What’s wrong, _lisitsa_?”

“I… in public, Andy… in front of _someone else_ …” Vasya gestured down, her breathing ragged and her voice almost a whimper. “I will- I am afraid I’ll-“

“You won’t be the first, little fox,” Andy said soothingly, like she was coaxing a horse to hand. “I’m here, and this is for you, to feel good. I want you to lose yourself, I want you to have that pleasure.”

“I - it’s only in private that-“

“Vasya, please. For me. I want you to. You’re so beautiful, trembling and crying out, trying to stay quiet. We can go to a room if you want - if it will be easier.” Andy tilted her head slightly, and was not wholly surprised by the eager way Vasya moved, barely taking the time to push her gown back down and leading Andy further down the passage, weaving in and out of two further chambers, and into a small room lit only by moonlight. 

There was little in the room except a few couches and a desk - some reception room, perhaps, or an office, but the most important thing was that it only had one entrance, and they could shut the door behind them. And they did, promptly, before Andy nudged Vasya back onto a large chair, almost a couch, upholstered in gold silk. The Russian woman moved back easily, and Andy could see tension ease through her body, the way even her feet seemed less arched in their heeled shoes. Andy knelt down in front of the couch, spreading out Vasilisa’s legs, settling between them again. 

“I am beginning to hate this dress,” Andy said with a hint of genuine irritation, pushing it back up over the panniers, shoving the chemise up with a gesture borne more of lust than of comfort. 

“It was expensive, and I thank you kindly not to damage- _oh!”_ Vasya’s retort was lost as Andy gently nibbled at her thighs again. It really was like soothing a horse, Andy thought for a moment; coaxing them, getting them accustomed to you, easing them until they relaxed, and trusted you.

“Relax, Vasya,” Andy said, pulling her mouth away. “The door is shut and everyone is so ridiculously drunk they’re probably about to all go swim in the river, or try to. I want to hear you, I want to see you, when you lose yourself. Come for me, little fox,” she murmured, before tucking her head and fingers back down.

It would have made a wonderfully lewd painting, two women in lavish gowns, one hidden between another’s legs, in the luxury of the Catherine Palace. Andy would have had someone paint it, if she could have been fucked to find the time; it was the kind of memory she’d hold on to, cradling near her heart while she didn’t get old and die. The kind she’d see in some monarch’s collection ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred years from now, and hide a laugh about the pleasure those women must have shared. 

Her chuckle at the thought did things to Vasya she hadn’t expected, and felt the woman slump down as much as her stays allowed, hips twitching again towards Andy’s mouth. Andy made a pleased sound, dipping her fingers in and out of Vasya’s cunt. Vasya lost her words again, and Andy felt her get wetter, damn near dripping into her mouth as she licked and lapped, tongued and tugged, until Vasya was once more almost trembling. Andy’s fingers pumped slowly in and out, looking for the spot, _that_ spot, the one that should make Vasya lose all sense of space and time if she’s lucky. 

“It’s all right, _lisitsa_ ,” Andy said - or tried to, as Vasya’s thighs clamped around her head. This might be the first time she actually dies during sex, she thought; Vasya had thighs of fucking steel and at that angle, Andy was trapped and could not breathe. She managed one haphazard breath that barely satisfied her lungs, and sucked on Vasya’s clit as her fingers worked her carefully, tongue brushing that sensitive nub. Whatever last restraint Vasya had vanished, gone in a flood of salt-sweet liquid and a muffled, keening cry. 

Her hand seized Andy’s head and her hips bucked into Andy’s face. Andy continued to fuckher slowly, gently, through the pulse of orgasm. Andy was pleasantly surprised by the strength, the pulsing feeling as the walls of her cunt clutched at Andy’s fingers, the muscle tension and sudden lassitude that followed. She could hear Vasya’s choppy, stuttering breaths, and looked up to see her bodice heaving in a way she’d genuinely only thought reserved for bad theatrics.

Andy knew she will always remember that sound, the tension and the trembling after, the ragged breathing. She gently pushed Vasya’s thighs from her head, and sat back. Vasilisa reached for her, hands not quite flailing, to pull Andy to her. It was awkward, and Andy swore panniers and gowns to the depths of the hells.

“What language was _that_?”

Andy blinked, and swore internally. “Something old,” she said evasively, settling herself over Vasya, straddling her and leaning in to kiss her. “But it doesn’t matter.”

“I will trust you,” the green-eyed woman said after a moment, “but somehow feel as if I am missing something.” She sighed, and her eyes flicked up to Andy. “And I am still curious.”

“About what?” 

“You said you knew how to use those things that Countess Bruce had, for the Empress.” 

“And I do.”

“Show me.”

“Whoa there. I’m not sneaking into the Empress’ boudoir to try to pull out her toys.”

“I know someone,” Vasilisa said with a sly, almost vulpine smile. “But only if you think you would want to.”

Andy grinned. Perhaps Catherine’s court would not be so boring, after all.


End file.
